


caress me down

by burnthesocks



Series: old man and twink robot [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Connor, Car Sex, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Penis, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Top Hank Anderson, connor abuses his preconstruction ability, connor has a self lubricating asshole because why wouldn't he, connor thinks hank is beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthesocks/pseuds/burnthesocks
Summary: Connor shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat."Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant?" He asked, voice uncertain."Ah, not a personal question this time?" Hank scoffed slightly. After silence from Connor, Hank spoke again. "Yeah, Con, What is it?" Connor felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a small smile at the nickname."How do you tell someone you want to have sex with them?"
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: old man and twink robot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858183
Comments: 24
Kudos: 382





	caress me down

**Author's Note:**

> !!! this was previously titled "the bridge: take two" but i scrapped that title in favor of a sublime song :-) <3  
> hihi i don't know if this has been done before, if it has, ma bad. i haven't written anything since feb 2019 and haven't written hankcon in even longer, so i'm a little rusty, i apologize in advance if it shows ! i had a burst of motivation and decided to seize before it inevitably went away entirely, i hope you guys like this <3

After the revolution, Hank had met up with Connor and had insisted that Connor stayed at his place, telling him he didn't like the idea of him out on his own. Connor didn't mind this. In fact, he thought he liked it. He still had a hard time understanding what he wanted, after going throughout his entire existence following his programming blindly.

Hank had never explicitly asked Connor if he was a deviant or not, and Connor liked to think that it was because Hank already knew. Hank had made comments before about how Connor carried himself differently. He had also insisted on Connor not wearing his Cyberlife uniform anymore, substituting it with his own (larger) clothes, to which Connor didn't protest. Although it was foreign to wear anything but the clothing he had been manufactured with, it was... nice, he decided. Nice to smell Hank's shampoo and deodorant, and nice to feel like he isn't just a machine. His favorite was Hank's police sweatshirt, which didn't quite fit him, but he realized he liked it. It was "comfortable". That was the word Hank helped him find.

There were still rough nights, of course, but Connor's presence had helped. Connor had often nagged him about his drinking habits, and while Hank hadn't gone cold turkey, he had cut back on his alcohol, and impressively, his takeout consumption. This was pleasing, Connor decided. He liked being able to help Hank.

Which is why he found it particularly distressing when Hank was having a bad night, grabbed a six-pack, and went for the door. Connor insisted on coming with him, though, wearing Hank's police hoodie, which may as well have belonged to Connor at that point. Connor followed Hank into the cold December snow, feeling the bite of the wind instantaneously as he stepped out behind the police lieutenant. He followed Hank to his car and got into the passenger seat, his LED pulsating yellow as he determined the temperature outside.

"It's quite cold outside, Lieutenant, I believe you're underdressed for this weather," Connor told him, feeling slight frustration when his concern didn't reach his robotic tone. Hank looked at him, face deadpan.

"I quite honestly don't give a damn," Hank said, starting the car and turning on his out of date radio. His car started blaring Knights of the Black Death, which genuinely startled Connor. Hank saw him jump slightly and raised his eyebrow, but said nothing and pulled out of his driveway. Connor sat, almost unmoving aside from his simulated breathing, which Hank had taken notice of a few days back. Connor hadn't noticed it himself until Hank pointed it out. His LED pulsed a steady blue with occasional bursts of yellow, illuminating the dim car. Hank tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the song that currently played, and Connor took a moment to look at Hank's hands.

Probably more than a moment, but who's counting? 

Connor had always had a hard time understanding what he wanted, but he found that even before he deviated, Hank has always been a constant want. It took him a long time, an embarrassing amount of research, to figure out what this want meant. Looking at Hank's hands, his systems betrayed him, and his preconstruction ability kicked in without any warrant. Several scenarios portrayed themselves in front of him, all of which involving Hank’s hands in one way or another. Some more innocent than others, Connor observed with a stutter of his thirium pump. One scenario was Simulation Hank placing his free hand into Connor’s, interlacing their fingers. Another, Simulation Hank slid his free hand to the waistband of Connor’s (Hank’s) sweatpants and dipped his hand underneath it. Connor made an unintentional hum as he watched the simulation play out in front of him, his LED a burning yellow. He knew if he hadn’t turned his sexual functions off, he’d have an erection. Hank turned to him. Connor, who always has tabs running focusing on Hank’s vitals, notices his heart rate spike. His brows were furrowed in confusion, and Connor just blinked at him, not quite knowing how to excuse it. Hank, still, said nothing, just turned back to the road. They ended up at the bridge. Connor has some unpleasant memories from this place. More specifically when Hank pulled a gun on him, but Hank had since apologized profusely for how he treated Connor when they had first met, which Connor had already forgiven him, but still appreciated it nonetheless.

Hank grabbed the six-pack of beer from the backseat, and the action lifted his jacket and shirt above his stomach slightly as he reached his arm back at an angle that surely felt unpleasant for the worn-down man. Connor was hardly focused on that though, but he was focused on the small bit of stomach exposed when he stretched back. Hank surely felt him staring, because he self-consciously pulled his jacket and shirt down instantly, and Connor felt… disappointed? He often had trouble putting words to feelings. 

Hank left the car and didn’t wait for Connor, but he didn’t have to, Connor was behind him almost instantly. He remembered Hank’s analogy, comparing him to a poodle, fondly. Hank sat at the bench all too familiar, and Connor, this time, sat next to him. A safe distance, but close enough for him to still receive a notice in the corner of his vision that his body temperature had risen. Hank sipped away at a beer, and Connor sat quietly and watched him. He noticed himself swallow thickly when he watched a drop of beer miss Hank’s lips and drip down the Lieutenant’s chin, a very human action that he normally wouldn’t need to perform, but his mouth had helpfully filled with analysis fluid at the sight of it. His equivalent to drooling.

Connor decided that he definitely didn’t like seeing Hank upset.

“What are you thinking about, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, his brows drawn together as he stared into the older man’s features. Hank didn’t look at him when he answered.

“Mind your fucking business Connor,” He grumbled, taking a long swig of his beer. He then paused and looked at Connor. Connor’s expression was close enough to hurt for Hank to feel a pang of remorse, even in the bad mood he was in. “I just… Fuck, Connor, I feel like I’m letting you down.” Hank sighed.

Connor tilted his head in confusion, a puppy-like trait that he didn’t remember adopting, but one that Hank seemed to like. “Why do you feel like that, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, pressing on, hoping for a way in. A way to help this seemingly helpless man. 

“God, Connor, drop the title, it’s Hank. I think we’re past that at this point,” Hank groaned, making a vague gesture between the two of them. Connor nodded.

“Understood.” Was all he said as he awaited Hank’s answer, whom he’d hoped didn’t forget the question.

“I feel… I don’t know, kid, I feel like because I’m still drinking, I’m lettin’ you down.” Hank lifted his beer for emphasis, not making eye contact with Connor.

“No, Lieu- Hank. You are not letting me down. I am actually proud of your progress, even as we sit here and I watch you drink.” Connor reassured, trying his damndest to express how he felt in his tone. Hank didn’t seem to expect that response, and he looked at Connor, seemingly in denial. Hank looked back at his beer. It was his second bottle, and he was almost done with it. He drank the rest of the bottle and let out a long sigh.

“It’s fucking cold out here. Let’s go home,” Hank said, getting up and patting Connor’s shoulder. Connor involuntarily shuddered at the touch, and Hank looked at him like he was crazy for a second before, Connor assumed, blaming it on the cold. Hank grabbed the six-pack, which now only had four beers, and haphazardly got it in the backseat.

Hank sat in the driver’s seat but didn’t drive, letting the heat kick in. Connor shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat after turning on his sexual functions and hoping it would serve a purpose.

"Can I ask you a question, Hank?" He asked, voice uncertain.

"Ah, not a personal question this time?" Hank scoffed slightly. After silence from Connor, Hank spoke again. "Yeah, Con, What is it?" Connor felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a small smile at the nickname. 

"How do you tell someone you want to have sex with them?" 

Hank sputtered, and Connor noticed his heart rate spike significantly. 

“What the fuck?” It was all Hank managed for a few seconds, ever helpful. “Why the fuck are you asking me, Connor?” Connor frowned at this response.

“I value your opinion greatly, Hank.” Connor pressed on, determined to get an answer from Hank. He had already worked up the courage to ask, he was not going to go down without a definite answer (that he would use against the lieutenant, surely). 

“I don’t know- Not like that. You have to… drop hints.” Hank suggested, which didn’t help at all.

“And what if you’ve already attempted that, and they took no notice?” Connor asked exasperatedly.

“Then… be bold. Confidence is attractive.” Hank shrugged. “I’m too sober for this conversation, Con.”

“Noted. Also, Hank, I’ve noticed a dilation in your pupils, as well as other things that I’m kind enough not to mention.” Connor remarked, his LED still at yellow, contradicting his attempt at boldness. A small smirk quirked his lips when he noticed Hank’s cheek flush a noteworthy pink color, which he could picture going down to the Lieutenant’s shoulders.

“Yeah. Like that,” Hank muttered, putting a hand on his forehead and rubbing his temples. “Really too sober for this, Connor.” Hank’s hand went to put the car into reverse, but Connor caught it with ease and met Hank’s darkened eyes.

“I think I’d much rather you be sober for this.” Connor said, in a low tone that sounded nothing like his usual “goofy” voice, as Hank had put it. Before Hank could get any words out, Connor turned Hank’s head towards his own and kissed him. It was quick and chaste, and at an awkward angle, but Connor, inexperienced at best, hoped it would suffice. “I thought you were a skilled detective, Hank,” Connor added, just in case he hadn’t gotten the message across. 

Hank stared at him in awe. “Connor, you don’t know what you’re doin’,” Hank protested, but his words had no substance. Connor could tell that much just from the look on his face, pupils blown wide and lips slightly parted as he searched Connor for any sign of reluctance.

“I think I very much do, Lieutenant.” Connor winked at him as he said it. Hank cursed under his breath and kissed Connor. Connor responded with enthusiasm, at which Hank placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder firmly, a nonverbal way to tell him to slow down. Connor got the message and followed Hank’s pace. He had often preconstructed kissing Hank, but this was nothing like his preconstructions. This was much better, and he was beginning to get impatient, and the sweatpants that had hitherto been comfortable were now strained against his erection. They parted, mostly for Hank to breathe, and Connor whimpered “Hank,”, which was enough to get the message across.

“Backseat,” Hank muttered under his breath, and once they had relocated to a spot that was at least a bit more convenient, Hank looked less sure of himself. “Are you sure you want to do this, Connor?” Hank asked quietly, not making eye contact. Connor, though desperate, did appreciate that he cared enough to ask. Before Connor answered, Hank continued. “I mean, you’re fuckin’ beautiful, you could go around and screw just about anyone you wan-” Connor silenced Hank with a kiss, and when he pulled back, he spoke.

“I have never wanted anything more than I want this, so _please_ , Hank,” Connor told him, Hank’s name coming out as more of a whine. This was more than enough reassurance for Hank, who pulled Connor onto his lap, wasting no time to get his lips back on his. Connor shivered when Hank’s cold, rough hands went up inside his hoodie, as he wore nothing underneath, and Hank pulled him closer.

“Please Hank, I need you. Now.” Connor said, his voice still lower than usual, and Connor felt Hank’s dick react to his words more than Hank himself, feeling it twitch under his thigh.

“Shit, Alright, Con-” Hank got his pants and boxers down enough to where his- definitely larger than average- dick could free itself, and Connor gawked at it. He had, although it was most definitely an invasion of privacy, calculated Hank’s dick size on multiple occasions, both hard and soft, but it was still nothing like seeing it right in front of him. So many things he wanted to do with it, but he felt hurried to get what he wanted. He was, after all, always one to accomplish his mission. “Uh, Connor, I might need to uh…” Hank trailed off, doing some crude motion with his fingers. Connor wedged his sweatpants and briefs off as Hank watched, his eyes dark as he stared at the pale expanse of Connor’s thighs and- of course- his perfectly average, and might he add, hairless dick. 

“There’s no need for that, Hank,” Connor told him, a hint of desperation in his voice as he put Hank’s hand up to his ass. Hank confusedly probed a finger at his hole, and pulled it back, appalled at the slickness.

“You have a fuckin’ self-lubricating asshole,” Hank said, staring at his finger with an unreadable expression. Connor nodded. “Of fucking course you do.” Connor, impatiently, lined himself up to ride Hank. Hank just watched, as Connor, LED flickering from yellow to red, slowly sat on his dick with a low moan. Connor, with the help of North, had been able to download some of the Traci model’s programming. Meaning, he knew how to ride a dick, and Hank noticed this immediately, trying to be a gentleman and not jerk his hips into Connor. 

Connor didn’t make this easy, beginning to bounce on Hank’s dick and take more of him inside each time. Hank grabbed Connor’s hips with a bruising grip, needing something to ground him. He hadn’t had much action as of late aside from his own hand. Connor's skin peeled back where Hank's hands gripped him tightly, revealing the stark white of his chassis. Hank stared at him in wonder.

"Is... is that on purpose?" He asked Connor, watching as the skin peeled back anywhere his hands rested. Connor blushed a charming shade of blue.

"Ah- No," He confessed, and it seemed to have tampered his enthusiasm a bit. Hank brought his mouth to Connor's, kissing him sweetly, before pulling back.

"You're fucking beautiful, Connor," Hank told him, and the sheer sincerity in the lieutenant's gruff voice made Connor keen, resuming his efforts with haste. He had warnings everywhere he looked and dedicated just enough processing power to clear his vision and focus on Hank. The noises Hank made, the sound of Connor’s name, the feel of his hands, of his dick inside him, filling him. All things Connor would never let himself forget. He made an embarrassingly loud sound when Hank finally touched him right where he needed him, rocking himself into Hank’s hand as he rode Hank. Connor closed the gap between them, kissing Hank with as much passion as he could muster. Helpfully, his “new programming” hadn’t quite helped him with the kissing component, so Hank still had to guide him slightly. Everything felt more amazing than Connor could have imagined. Connor, who was now speeding up his pace without mercy.

“Fuck, Connor I’m- God- I’m not going to last,” Hank warned him when they pulled away. Connor responded to this eagerly, doubling his efforts as Hank struggled to match his pace with the hand he had on Connor. 

"Good," Connor muttered, in a tone that was nothing short of sultry. His hands Then, Hank said something he hadn’t quite anticipated.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, Connor,” And that is what sent Connor spilling over the edge, shuddering in Hank’s lap and twitching around Hank’s dick, and letting out a staticky moan of what would have been Hank’s name. Hank came chasing after, groaning as he rode out his orgasm. Connor kissed Hank as they basked in the afterglow, all the windows of Hank’s car steamed up. 

Hank and Connor got themselves dressed again, although it didn’t matter much with whatever absurd hour of the night it was. Connor helpfully cleaned up their mess with wipes Hank conveniently had in his glove box. As Hank started to drive, he seemed to register what just happened a little better.

“This isn’t a dream, right?” He asked, sounding genuinely serious. Connor laughed, and Hank considered it to be a sound from heaven, or whatever the fuck was up in the sky.

“No, Hank, you’re not dreaming,” Connor reassured him, unable to force his lips down as he wore a dopey smile. “And I…” Connor visibly hesitated and his hands twitched, as though they were looking for his long-lost coin. When Hank caught the frown on Connor’s face, he felt his heart sink.

“You what, Connor?” Hank forced out of him, keeping his expectations at the worst. Connor swallowed, LED at a concerning shade of red.

“I love you, Hank,” Connor muttered quietly, seeming to be bracing himself. Hank took his free hand and held Connor’s, and Connor was pleased with the way their fingers fit together, another thing that was superior to anything his preconstruction program could simulate. His skin peeled back down to his wrist, and Hank kissed every white knuckle on his hand softly, then pulled back with a grin.

“Shit, Connor, I love you too.” Hank laughed, the surprise and joy visible in his features. 

Needless to say, Sumo was not the only one to accompany Hank in his bed that night.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me a stupid amount of effort and its kinda mediocre but i hope u like it anyways :,} kudos and comments make me very happy so if u want to do either, feel free <3 luv u all


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